Archives for category: health

I am here, now, this moment, this place. I very much want to be… somewhere. Else? I leave myself a note for later, “Write about being vs yearning.” I move on with my day.

January 30th, 2022

I wrote those words at the end of last year, saved it as a draft thinking I’d mull it over and reflect on the feeling further, over time. I had no idea that the time it would require would be 573 days, or that so much would happen in the time since then. The feeling itself was so vague it was hard to ascertain “what it meant” – or how “seriously” to take it. I felt it so deeply I was filled with an urgency to act… somehow. I guess, as I continue to reflect now, it doesn’t seem so surprising that since then I’ve walked on from two different jobs (under peculiarly similar circumstances that weren’t to do with me directly in any useful way). I’ve also put more attention and love into my garden. I’ve put more study, practice…and frustration… into my relationship with my Traveling Partner… More presence into other relationships (if not more time)… More commitment into my self-care… More work and fond effort into my life, generally, I suppose… More attention on my health and fitness. I don’t see, from this vantage point now (with a head cold on a summer Saturday evening, filled with ennui… and snot), that all this change, and effort, and… interesting chaos… has done much to take me further than where I sit right now. I chuckle to myself; human vanities and limited human perspective are what they are. I’m very human. I sip my mug of hot water, grateful that it feels so soothing (and strangely satisfying).

I suppose the tl;dr of the day-to-day recently is that I’ve been sick with this ick for about a week, and mostly resting and hanging out with my Traveling Partner (who had been sick himself, but is now mostly well, hanging out and caring for me while I get over it, too). Haven’t felt much like writing. Haven’t felt up to it. Haven’t felt inspired to share my vapid rather pointless stream-of-consciousness dithering and mental chatter. Just sick. Just hanging around using up tissues, forcing fluids, and napping. It’s been a surprisingly pleasant (and sometimes deep) few days, watching a favorite old sci-fi series together and talking. I’ve been fussy and sometimes unpleasant or unfit to be around – this one has hit me hard in the cognitive places, and my emotions are volatile and unsteady at times. My Traveling Partner loves me fiercely in spite of it, and it’s been good to see his deeply worried face begin to give way to mild impatience that I’m still sick, as I begin to improve. It’s hard to bear witness to a loved-one’s suffering. We’re both less worried as I improve.

…But, now that I’m “mostly over it”, I’m beginning to feel fussy and impatient with myself. It’s easy to become frustrated with how sick I still am feeling. I shrugged it off a few moments ago, and took a seat in my studio, to write for the first time since the last time. (August 17th, 9 days ago) Not knowing quite where to begin, I looked over my drafts. Found this one, which seemed both relevant, prescient, just a little comical – and a whole lot human – and figured this is as good a place to begin again as any other.

So I begin. Again. I sip my water, and consider my thoughts.

Life is calling. Take your chances. What matters most?

It’s been an interesting time, these past 3 weeks or so. Losing my job has been the least interesting thing about it. More interesting was the visit by my Traveling Partner’s son, and the couple of days at home alone that resulted from the camping trip my partner took with him. More interesting were the projects they did together in the shop, and the evenings of playing a new (to me) dice game that resulted from it. More interesting was the dinner party with my partner’s older brother and his family, in our home – our first actual family dinner as a group together (it was lovely and a lot of fun). More interesting was taking my step-son to breakfast and then going to the beach his last day in town before returning home. Hell, even waking up to discover I’d caught this damned cold, the morning I took my step-son to the airport was more interesting by far than losing my job. lol All of it also more “important” – more real. Lived experience. Life. I’ve been enjoying that so much of my time is my own.

I sip my water and remind myself to make a point to stay aware of this detail as I consider other employment; it feels good to live my life, not just frustratedly snatch this minute or that one to wedge it in between work shifts or tasks.

…It’s a metaphor…

I look over my recent pictures. I’m reminded of this or that project. Some commitments I’ve forgotten while being sick return to my awareness (I’m obviously getting well… LOL). I keep sipping this mug of hot water, thinking my thoughts.

…I’m almost out of tissues in here. It’s clearly time to begin again.

Morning. A Thursday. Busy day, based on my calendar details. Hot coffee, black. Peach and orange sunrise streaked with messy clouds. I am groggy.

I woke to lights coming on, right on time. This has been my “alarm clock” for so long now, I actually do think of it as “my alarm”. I hauled myself upright, reluctantly. My sleep is improved now that I’m using a CPAP machine, I’ll go ahead and say that first. So… snoring? Get to a sleep doctor and take care of yourself. That snoring is a bigger deal than just keeping other people awake. 😉 The machine prevents me snoring, but according to my sleep tracker, it’s not doing much good for my quality of sleep, which is still restless, and lacks sufficient deep sleep. I’m getting more sleep – which is a start – but I’m probably still just getting used to sleeping in the mask, and also dealing with the noise of the machine (quiet but distinctive) and the sound of my breathing (different). My dreams are vivid, plentiful, and quickly forgotten. I’m definitely actually sleeping, but not sinking into that cherished deep sleep, and today I’m really feeling that.

…So groggy…

I showered, kissed my Traveling Partner good-morning-and-see-you-later and headed to work.

I’m sipping my coffee, grateful for this hot cup of “we’ll get past this moment and on to the next” that warms my hands and lifts my mood. An early morning walk around the block (required to obtain said coffee) was pleasant, and I enjoyed the sunrise. I’m thinking about life and things I’m happy turned out “badly”… only months ago, I was hoping to get onto Ozembic… already the news that has since surfaced has me feeling quite grateful I didn’t. One major notable significant “don’t miss this detail” truth of our human experience is that there is no “magic pill” or perfect outcome. The shortcuts are rarely actually shortcuts, and often come at an unreasonably high cost. No “happily ever after” – it’s work and effort and results that vary.

I sip my coffee thinking about incremental change over time. So… okay. This mask may not be the ideal CPAP mask for me. Could be. Maybe I could adjust it differently and be more comfortable? Maybe I need to be patient about getting used to it? Maybe some progress and improvement is enough? Hell, this isn’t even my machine… it’s a rental-on-loan while the paperwork and process of getting my own continues to unfold (apparently my apnea is bad enough that no one wanted me to go another night without a machine, due to some actual risk to my health & safety without it, potentially).

So here I am. Another day. Another moment. Another change. Another experience. One foot in front of the other, doing my best day-to-day and hoping that changes in behavior, thinking, and circumstances will add up to improvements over time that I can really enjoy and thrive on. In the meantime, enough has to be enough, and it’s okay to embrace “successful failures” every bit as much as it is to celebrate the joyful moments of delight and success that are more obvious.

…I am already missing my Traveling Partner this morning. Our evening last night was an interesting departure from our usual. Shortly after dinner, completely unexpectedly, we ended up sharing some time with his son (who lives far away, but is visiting later this month). Technology is amazing. Hanging out and talking as a family as if we were all in the same room. “Fun” doesn’t quite describe it; it was “real”, and authentic, and funny at times, and serious other times. At a later point another person joined the conversation (a stranger to me), and the vibe wasn’t the same. Not family. Too much drama. I quickly got bored, and called it a night in favor of quiet time and reading a book. From there my night was the restless unsettled experience I described earlier. I’m not feeling critical or discontented about it; it was an interesting evening of good conversation, generally. I’m okay with that. As for the sleep thing? Well, shit, there’s always been “a sleep thing” for me. Nothing to see there.

…So groggy…

…I’m glad coffee exists…

Right now I’m feeling moody and vexed by existence. Irked by humankind. “Over it” – without knowing what “it” even means to be. I know it’ll pass, at some point.

…I guess I’ve got to begin again.

I am sipping the last of my first cup of coffee this morning. The paper cup is still warm, though the coffee is almost gone. It’s a cool summer morning at the leading edge of a new work week and the start of the day. I pause along the path I am walking to sit a moment, breath the morning air and listen to the birds and the sound of distant traffic and construction.

A pleasant walk, a pleasant morning.

I finished at the sleep lab this morning at 06:00… Rather late compared to my usual wakeup time around 04:30 or 05:00. Weird experience. 10 out of 10 for “interesting”. Hard to say “how I slept”, although the sleep technician asked, as did the questionnaire I filled out after waking up. I did sleep. I am rested. My sleep was about typical for a “good night” for me. A bit restless, and interrupted a couple times, but in this case the restlessness had a lot to do with being wired up every which way, making it tough to be entirely comfortable.

My Traveling Partner isn’t wrong though; I’ve got apnea bad enough that it was easily detected in the first couple hours of the night, causing the technician to come in and wake me long enough to go ahead and put me on a CPAP machine for the rest of the night. Sleeping with that addition further complicated my ability to be comfortable, partly because I was all wired up still, and partly because it was something more to get used to, and in a strange place on top of that.

… I still managed to get enough sleep to be fully rested, and more hours than typical for me. A larger percentage of my time asleep, according to my sleep tracker on my wearable was spent on deep sleep. Win.

This is all very encouraging. It’s an unfortunately slow process though. I now have to wait for the physician to get back to me and schedule time to come in to get my prescription and machine. Did you know you can’t easily get a CPAP machine without a prescription? Lucrative bit of medical industry this sleep stuff, eh? Probably not a coincidence that the doctor here also owns the medical equipment supply business here in town.

… Pretty morning. I feel hopeful. A good time to begin again.

I slept poorly last night. Restless dreams, wakefulness, and frequently having to get up to pee, along with being in pain, made for a difficult night. My Traveling Partner woke up in a shitty mood, in pain, and cross with me as his default approach. Not my favorite way to start a day. I dressed and headed out as soon as I woke. “Later” will be soon enough to return home, hopefully some time after my partner has had his coffee, done some yoga and stretching, and taken whatever he can to manage his pain and allergies.

I’m sitting on a fence rail next to a marshy expanse of still water favored by all manner of water birds. There is seasonality to the view. I enjoy this quiet place, although on weekends it is often crowded with bird-watchers and camera nerds. It’s a nice place for perspective.

God damn, it would suck if this otherwise beautiful relationship were to fail over our inability to sleep in the same place. I think about that briefly. Tears well up, and I brush them away. We’re not there yet and there are still things to try. My sleep study got moved up from mid-August to… tomorrow. I’m not exactly excited, just hoping something helpful comes of it.

A woman and child walk past me. I hear the child ask “Mommy, why does that lady look sad?”, and the woman’s kind careful reply “Sometimes being a grown up is hard honey. It makes Mommy sad sometimes, too.” For real, Lady, you’re so right. Sorry, Kiddo, it’s not always easy.

I sit quietly awhile. No plan. Just stillness. I check the hours for the pharmacy near home in order to time my return such that I can pick something up for my Traveling Partner. I try to do enough sweet things, kind things, helpful things to offset the unpleasantness of our shared challenges. It’s not “enough”, but it is at least something. I find myself making a silent promise to refrain from talking about my own pain, and fatigue, and stress, and anxiety… Hoping to be more easily able to make room for my partner to feel heard, even if I can’t do much about it. Again, it’s not everything, it’s just something.

… I have to trust that after 13 years together he does understand that I am chronically struggling with pain, myself, and that he has the affection for me and the emotional intelligence to hold space for that awareness day-to-day, in spite of his own pain and fatigue. That’s hard sometimes. It can be a very “fuck your pain, what about mine?!” kind of world sometimes. I think I can do better… But how best to do better without being a dick to myself and undermining my own emotional wellness? It’s a puzzle.

… Sometimes being a grown up is hard, and it makes me sad…

I think about a dear friend tearing up a bit as we discussed age, aging, and the inevitable loneliness of feeling “cast aside”. Fucking hell, that is some real shit. Sometimes being grown up is hard. I watch a small flock of birds take flight, appearing to chase a larger bird. They don’t pay me any attention at all. I’m not part of their experience.

We’re each walking our own path. No map. Sometimes we get lucky on the journey and have some companionship along the way for some distance. It’s not a given that we will, and ultimately we’re in this alone, regardless how or whether we surround ourselves with people or creatures. These are individual journeys. Nonetheless, we’re also all in it together. It’s a puzzle. I remind myself to try to be kind. Always.

It’s time to begin again.

Middle of the work day. Coffee long behind me. Stopped for a break to have a bite with my Traveling Partner. We’ve had a difficult couple of days for some reason. It’s probably me, I guess? I’m not sure and I’m not sure it’s helpful to “assign blame” or point fingers at each other, or any particular individual issue. I just want to do better as a partner and as a lover – and as a friend. That’s where we started. That’s what matters most.

So far today I’ve avoided beating myself up over yesterday(s). I like the thought that I’ve treated my partner with similar kindness and gentleness, but I don’t always feel sure of myself on that point. He said some things yesterday that took my breath away with how much it hurt to hear them. I’m not of a mind to make bold promises about changes, I’m just going to seek to do better day to day, and hope that incremental change over time makes a difference. I wish myself luck on that, in a sincere and heartfelt way, and let my thoughts move on.

I read an article that offers some promise of improvement on the strange ticks and habits that are dermatillomania or trichotillomania – as a lifelong “can’t seem to stop” biter-of-nails, and picker-of-cuticles, I’ve been frustrated a long long time that these seem to be “habits” I can’t seem to break. The news article is here. The “habit replacement manual” that supports the practice the article is about is linked with a video, here. Good luck, if you need this I hope it helps. Me, I feel… hopeful. It’s a feeling I really need right now, so that’s a win.

The work day can’t possibly end soon enough, but I feel on edge and stressed out, which isn’t ideal. Is it “all me”? It easily could be, and I try not to resist well-intentioned feedback from people close to me when they express their concern. I look around at the chaos in my studio. My wee library is in a pretty similar state. The house, in general, is quite tidy (after the Herculean effort my Traveling Partner put in just before I went to a work offsite in Palm Springs). I can’t “run from this” – it doesn’t solve anything to do so, it just worsens over time. And it’s funny, the chaos is telling – chaos in my environment nearly always signals some measure of internal chaos. I wouldn’t expect tidying up the external chaos to do anything much about the mess in my head, but… it often helps quite a lot. Like… a lot a lot. So I’m thinking maybe it’s a good weekend to mostly stay home, mostly tidy up, and spend time connecting with my partner. Talking. Touching. Laughing. Not just hanging out watching videos. Definitely not snarling at each other from another room. “Together” – present, and engaged, connected. Hard. We’ve both been irritable, lately, though I don’t think I know nearly enough about why that is (for either of us), and it’s hard to have a gentle conversation about it. Maybe if I can just do better, we can get past this? I say “maybe if I...” rather than “we”, because mine is the behavior I own, control, and make happen with the verbs I’m personally lobbing into the experience we share. The other half of “we” is on his side of every interaction, and I’m confident that he does also want to “do better” – but I can’t force that, control that, dictate that, or own that, so… yeah. I’ll be over here doing my best to do better, myself.

…Don’t wish me “luck”. lol Definitely wish me success – or persistence. I figure I’ll be beginning again quite a lot, and getting a ton of practice at not taking shit personally, letting small shit stay small, assuming positive intent, and being present, open, and kind. I don’t expect it to be “easy”. We’re probably both feeling emotionally hurt by things we’ve said to each other. We could do better. We could be kinder, gentler, and more aware of each other’s fundamental humanity. It’s not easy; we’re also each dealing with our own shit, and probably feeling pretty weighed down by that.

I take a breath and exhale slowly, evenly, and try to remember a time when I wasn’t feeling stressed. Any such recollection, hoping to savor that past moment, and reclaim a sense of it. It’s a useful exercise. Not a cure, but helpful. Hell, I find one such moment pretty quickly, then several more, and so many that are recent, and I start feeling lighter – this is just a moment. Emotional weather. Storms pass. I breathe, exhale, relax, and center myself in the context of a better feeling.

The physical pain I’m in is a bit much. Arthritis in my spine. I lift myself more erect; better posture sometimes means less pain. My neck aches. I do some of the physical therapy “moves” I was taught, sometimes they really help, other times they are at least a brief distraction. I feel the pain that lurks behind my jaw, and below my ear. I contemplate that fucking nodule on my thyroid and wonder if having it removed will help… I am grateful that at least the occipital neuralgia is not also flaring up. Pain makes everything else seem worse, more complicated, more stressful, less easy… I’m annoyed by pain. I look in my wee pillbox with today’s meds in it… have I got any more options? One last dose of an Rx pain reliever. I take it with some reluctance, but hoping for relief. If it helps, it helps. It’s okay to need, and to ask for, and to accept help. Sometimes it’s even necessary.

I take another breath and look at the time. I think I’ll call it a day – and begin again.